


I understand

by GalacticTwink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry Castiel, Mild Gore, Not Shippy, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, Violent Thoughts, i wrote this while i was crying, impulsive thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticTwink/pseuds/GalacticTwink
Summary: Cas wakes up with a headache and a Winchester leaning over him. Clearing his head doesn’t prove as helpful as you’d think.





	I understand

**Author's Note:**

> Self indulgent angst, also on my tumblr galactiktwink

Cas blinks, squinting into the harsh light above him. He can’t place where he is, too blinded to see his surroundings and arms too heavy to lift over his face and protect his eyes. There’s noise around him, but it sounds like it’s coming from underwater. He makes a noise, deaf to his own ears, and the light dims into a soft glow further from him. 

    “Cas?” he blinks again, the world around him slowly coming into focus. The angel’s vision is filled with green, and brown, and.. Flannel. Sam is leaning over him, one hand holding back his own hair to keep it from falling into Cas’s face. He goes to speak, but it comes out as more of a croak. His throat is so dry, as if he’d eaten a bath fizz. 

    “Oh, here.” the young hunter’s voice is so soft, as one might speak to a frightened animal so’s no not scare it away. He turns and finds a cup, returning his attention to Cas and stooping down further to raise it to the angel’s lips; free hand cupping the back of his head firmly. Holy water. And here he thought the boys trusted him. He once again tries to lift his arms with no luck. 

    “How do you feel?” Sam shifts beside him, nails digging into his scalp. That’s really a nervous tic he should drop. 

    “A little fuzzy, actually. Where am I?” Cas strains to look around, but his surroundings- though visible- are unfamiliar. Last he remembers was… What  _ is _ the last thing he remembers?

    “Oh- we’re in the bunker.” he gives Sam a look. If this is the bunker they’ve certainly done something to make it look smaller, and more apocalyptic. 

    “No, not the  _ bunker _ , the bunker. It’s like an in-case-of-apocalypse panic room.”

    “So you two caused another apocalypse?” 

    “What? No-” the hunter sighs, rubbing his hand across his forehead, “look, do you remember what happened?” Cas thinks back. He remembers being with the brothers, hunting something with them but not quite what they were hunting. But that could’ve been days ago, and Cas can’t quite place a time on it. Where’s Dean? He can’t be here, the man couldn’t stay quiet for this long if his life depended on it. 

    “No.”

    “Alright,” Sam rocks back on his heels and forwards again, “here, I’ll let you up.” he produces a kep from his breast pocket and kneels beside Cas, a click returning function to his hands and arms; followed by the rest of him. The angel raises a hand above his eyes, watching the shallow grooves imprinted against his skin from restraints fade slowly. 

    “Sorry about that, can’t be too careful.” Sam offers him a hand, helping the other man first sit up and then stand; raising the angel to his feet and grasping his hand tightly to support his first few trembling steps. When he’s confident in the older man’s ability to not fall, Sam releases him and takes a quick step back. 

    “I know you don’t have to eat or anything, but do you want me to make you a cup of tea?” Cas soaks in the room around him, weapons and photos of bare chested men hung on the walls mingled with permanent fixtures made of devils traps with paint. There’s a single bed, which he had been laying on, but a stack of several chairs that would imply the space is equipped for sustaining more than one person. 

    “Sure.” the angel’s eyes catch on a particularly large knife hung from the wall, a hook curving sharply back from its point to gut the victim of its stab. Cas shakes his head, following Sam out the reinforced door and trailing along ahead of the hunter while he locks the door behind them. His skin pricks in the open air, much cooler out here without all that body heat that had been condensed in a small space before. The bunker- hm. The house is quiet and dark, moonlight streaming in through the parted curtains that provides just enough light to navigate. The kitchen light clicks on off to Cas’s left, but he’s uninterested in pursuing any further conversation with the young Winchester. Without his brother, Sam is timid and better left to his own devices. Though, the same can be said of Dean in some cases. A glint in the light catches his eye, attracting the angel over to the table just to the side of the couch. There sits a framed photo of Dean and his brother, smiles painted across both their faces as they shoot each other with what appears to be brightly coloured guns filled with water rather than ammunition. In front of the photograph is a notebook building with extra added pages and a few stray pencils sticking out near the duct taped binding. But, blade resting half on the spiral, the final addition to the table is what caught Cas’s eye. He stretches out his hand, fingers wrapping firmly around the worn handle of the knife as he picks it up. The blade is sharpened to perfection and makes the angel’s pulse speed up a beat or two. His eyes unfocus, edges of the silver weapon spreading out and blurring as he thinks of all the things such a beautiful knife could do. He can almost picture one of the Winchesters running a demon clean through with it. Cas lifts his right hand, barely feeling the movement though he's the one doing it, bringing it up to the tip of the blade and just pressing down to break the surface of his skin. He doesn't even feel the cut, dragging the dagger down the palm of his hand and watching red ooze out around it and cover his vessel’s flesh. He can vaguely feel the warmth of the blood, but like the sensation isn't his own. He's disconnected from it completely. The slit heals as quickly as he had carved it, leaving only the blood behind to show it had even been there at all. Cas swallows, moving without thinking; doing what every instinct in his head is screaming for him to do. 

    “Cas?” clarity crashes back to him, making the angel dizzy as he blinks back to reality. Sam is standing in the doorway, hands filled with mugs and mouth agape as he stares on at Cas; blood smeared across the angel and shirt lifted in that same red splattered hand to clear room for the knife aimed squarely at his own abdomen. He hadn't even realised what he was doing, but he has no intention on changing his mind now. Sam’s voice fading into the buzz in his ears, Cas plunges the tip past his skin and pulls, raking the knife across his side -from the arch of his back to his navel- with ease. Blood bubbles and seeps from the large wound, knife clattering to the flood to allow the angel to dive into the gash with his fingers; searching inside himself for something he was undeserving of in the first place. The slit heals even more rapidly than the last, forcing Cas’s hand out to stitch itself back together. No. It has to he there. He Dons the knife once more, cutting himself up with less poise this time around and plunging in desperately both hands. Arms take hold of him, pulling Cas out of his own world and out of, well, himself. 

    “Sam, I can't go on forever. I don't want to live forever anymore.” he stabs at himself again, the knife ripped from his bloody hands before he can do further damage. 

    “Please, I just want to die. Please-" his voice breaks, Sam’s arms wrapping tightly around the angel and pulling him up against his broad chest. Cas’s knees buckle and the hunter goes down with him, dropping them both to the ground without a thought on the blood there. 

    “I don't understand.” Cas whispers hoarsely, arms wrapping around the bigger man to clutch him tightly. 

    “I want to hurt myself, I want to tear my grace from my body and purge myself of it.” warm tears drip down his face, some transferring to Sam’s and sticking to his skin. 

    “I know Cas, trust me I know. I understand.” 

    “Am I broken?”

    “No.”


End file.
